


Paradigm

by s0mmerspr0ssen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, Friendship, Gen, Loyalty, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0mmerspr0ssen/pseuds/s0mmerspr0ssen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wasn't it a good thing that Arthur's overbearing behaviour didn't tickle him into muttering curses under his breath? Wasn't it a good thing that submitting to his King's command made Merlin feel oddly complete?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradigm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt by isisanubis on LJ for glomp_fest back in April.
> 
> This turned out really... experimental. I love Arthur-Merlin dynamics, and I like them when they have a D/s quality, but for some reason, I rather see them in a gen relationship than a slash one. So this fic is - gen D/s? I don't know how else to describe it.
> 
> I admit this must be one of the weirder things I've ever written. :) Hope you enjoy anway.

Frankly, when it started happening, Merlin didn't even notice.  
  
He'd never been the kind of person to submit easily, and certainly not to Arthur. It was not that he didn't respect or admire his King – because he did, deeply so, even when he didn't always show it. It was _not_ that.  
  
But Arthur and he, they had blurred the boundaries from the start. Merlin skipped the _Sire_ and more or less mandatory bows and platitudes only to walk off unpunished more often than could be reasonably expected. And Arthur, for all his dismissive eye rolling and threats of violence, had always been on Merlin's side the minute he was truly needed.  
  
In between Arthur repeatedly claiming they could never be friends and Merlin stubbornly pretending that he wasn't listening, they had become equals in spite of their mismatching ancestry.  
  
At some point, there had simply been very few moments where either Merlin or Arthur made a point of stressing the other's rank.  
  
So, naturally, Merlin was very surprised when he eventually noticed that their dynamics had started to shift.  
  
At first, they were small, inconsequential things. Merlin being more agreeable than usual when Arthur was in one of his moods, for example. Arthur not having to repeat an order for Merlin to comply. Occasionally even, it was Merlin anticipating Arthur's wishes or needs before they had been put into words.  
  
It took him a fair while to notice, and even longer to trace it back to the beginnings. The main reason it took him so long was, probably, because the beginnings happened to fall around that point of time when Arthur finally realised that Merlin had magic.  
  
Honestly, Merlin had always expected the revelation to happen in a more grand manner. And not because he wanted the admiration of the whole of Camelot or a great spectacle that showed off his powers, but simply because it seemed so much more likely that Arthur would catch him screaming magical formulas at mythical beasts or enchanting ancient artifacts instead of seeing him do something small and almost inconsequential.  
  
But, as fate had decided it, Arthur did not find Merlin in serious conversation with Kilgharrah, or mixing up an obviously magical tonic in Gaius' chambers.  
  
No.  
  
Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, happened to catch his manservant Merlin mending clothes with a few whispered words and a flash of golden eyes.  
  
Mouth gone slack, the King had tracked one of his very own shirt flying through the air and over to the laundry basket, where it folded itself neatly and peacefully floated downwards.  
  
At which point, Merlin had noticed Arthur's arrival and been reduced to rapid breathing bordering on a panic attack.  
  
Another thing that Merlin had always expected to happen was a lot of shouting, mainly on Arthur's part. He had expected screaming, cursing, accusations and, possibly, a sword placed roughly against Merlin's neck.  
  
Instead, Arthur had gone very, very quiet. Then he had turned and calmly left the room.  
  
Seven entire days had passed with Arthur not speaking a single word to Merlin. He hadn't look at him, either, locked him out of his chambers, ignored him thoroughly, to be precise. No matter what Merlin did or said, Arthur pretended he wasn't even there.  
  
Of course, the others had noticed.  
  
Gwen asked about it almost from the very beginning, Gaius took him aside with a worried expression on day three and at the end of the week, even the Knights had been taken aback enough to ask Merlin what on Earth he had done to anger Arthur quite so badly.  
  
On the eighth day, Merlin decided that, if he didn't do something about this now, he might as well leave Camelot for good.  
  
Early in the morning, he had positioned himself in front of the door to the King's chambers.  
  
When Arthur had finally stepped outside, dressed and groomed without the help of a certain manservant, Merlin did the only thing that he could do: with a flash of golden eyes, he had forced Arthur back into his room, magically locked the door, thrown another fierce look at him and taken a deep breath.  
  
Then, he had knelt down.  
  
Bowing his head, Merlin had stared at the floor by Arthur's feet and gone completely still.  
  
For a long time, the silence was almost unbearably thick, and Merlin had been half-convinced that the King was about to stay stubborn and pretend nothing unusual was happening at all until Merlin decided to give up.  
  
But then, to Merlin's great relief, Arthur _did_ speak up, if rather gruffly:  
  
“What do you have to say?”  
  
Suppressing a sigh of relief, Merlin had chosen his next words very carefully.  
  
“My King,” he had started, and that alone had probably been enough to throw Arthur off completely. “I know you're furious with me. I have no excuse for concealing my magic from you, only explanations. I... I never found the right moment to tell you. You hated magic and even when it obviously wasn't bad or came to your help, you never quite accepted it. You must see how I couldn't... why I didn't _dare_...”  
  
To be fair, making this speech had seemed easier in Merlin's head. Frustrated, Merlin had broken off, risking a glance upwards.  
  
“Arthur,” he had finally concluded, faced with the King's stony expression. “Arthur, I only ever used it to help you and Camelot. I'm loyal to you. Surely you know that?”  
  
Judging from the deep wrinkle that had formed on Arthur's forehead, Merlin wasn't so sure he _had_ known.  
  
“So it was you, then?” Arthur had finally said, eyes hard. “All the ridiculous luck we had? Branches falling, helpful lights, convenient storms during a battle, magical snakes revealing themselves – that was you?”  
  
“Yes,” Merlin had replied simply. No point in denying any of it now.  
  
More silence, and Merlin had shifted nervously on the floor.  
  
“I would say I'm sorry, but I'm... I'm not. I can't be. Not for using magic to help you and Camelot. Only sorry for betraying your trust, though I had my reasons.”  
  
At these words, Arthur had taken a steady step forwards and Merlin had barely suppressed a flinch.  
  
But there hadn't been any of that still expected shouting or Arthur violently slamming Merlin into the wall. What _had_ happened was Arthur settling a strong hand on Merlin's shoulder and staring him squarely into the eye.  
  
“I believe you. I'm not happy, certainly, and I can't even begin to think about where to start with this mess, but... you've been loyal. More so than anyone I've known. So, Merlin. Stay, hide your magic a bit longer. I'll think of something. Is that clear?”  
  
What had followed should have felt ridiculous. It should have felt ridiculous and awkward and completely out of place.  
  
But it hadn't.  
  
Instead, it had felt natural to Merlin to raise his hand slowly, to clasp Arthur's fingers that rested on his shoulder. It had felt right to guide it lower carefully, lower and towards his lips. Pressing a tender kiss against the golden ring on Arthur's finger had just seemed like the only possible and logical thing to do.  
  
In retrospect, maybe that had been the turning point. Hell, there was no maybe about it: it _definitely_ had been the turning point.  
  
Because before that, Merlin hadn't respectfully inclined his head when Arthur passed him in the corridors on his way to training. Before that, Merlin hadn't knelt freely and with no complaint to remove Arthur's boots or peacefully smiled it off when Arthur was in one of his moods and spoke to him much more harshly. And certainly, before that, following Arthur's orders hadn't given him some sort of weird _satisfaction_.  
  
Though, when Merlin finally noticed it, it was too late to stop. And honestly speaking, Merlin wasn't even sure he _wanted_ it to.  
  
Wasn't it a _good_ thing that Arthur's overbearing behaviour didn't tickle him into muttering curses under his breath? Wasn't it a good thing that submitting to his King's command made Merlin feel oddly _complete_?  
  
Soon enough, Merlin had come to a point in his constant wondering at which he thought that maybe, accepting the change would be the best path to choose. There was not harm done, so why worry about it?  
  
Maybe it was a change that had been long overdue. Maybe this was what being a manservant was _supposed_ to be like. Maybe, with the heavy burden of his secret off his chest, Merlin had let go of some sort of shield, a defense mechanism, and was now able to get a kind of pleasure from serving his King that he had never been able to feel before.  
  
One night, months past the reveal of his magic, Merlin was busy stoking the fire in Arthur's chambers when the King spoke up in a calm voice:  
  
“I plan to announce it tomorrow.”  
  
His thoughts on other things, Merlin sent a careful smile towards Arthur as he neatly stacked and rearranged a few pieces of wood in the glowing fireplace.  
  
“What would that be, Sire?”  
  
Clearing his throat, Arthur sat down on his wooden chair, clearly preparing for an important talk.  
  
“Tomorrow, I'll tell the court that practicing magic will not be punished in Camelot anymore.”  
  
Only sheer luck prevented Merlin from burning his fingers, pieces of wood clattering noisily onto the floor.  
  
“What?” he gasped, staring up at Arthur in shock.  
  
“As long as the intentions behind it are good, magic will no longer be punishable,” Arthur continued.  
  
When Merlin didn't reply, too shocked to say anything, the King elaborated, scowling as if annoyed that he was explaining himself to Merlin:  
  
“I have worked on this for a while. It's no small feat, changing my father's law. Some won't accept it at first. I am confident it'll work, though. I _am_ King of Camelot, after all, no matter how skeptical some of the older Lords tend to be.”  
  
With no answer forthcoming, Arthur finally snapped.  
  
“Are you even listening, Merlin? I said I'll bring magic back to Camelot. Surely, I can expect some sort of reaction? Gratitude, even?”  
  
That did shake Merlin out of it.  
  
“I... I'm sorry, I'm just... _really_?”  
  
“Yes, _really_ ,” Arthur responded, clearly annoyed. “What do you take me for, a liar?”  
  
“No. No no, of course not. It's just... I've waited so long for this day to arrive, I... I'm not sure what to say.”  
  
“How about _Thank you_? How about a promise to help me sort out all the magical nonsense that will undoubtedly flood Camelot in the coming months? Anything would do.”  
  
“Yes,” Merlin replied, and suddenly, he felt ridiculously warm and giddy at the prospect that tomorrow, magic would no longer be outlawed in Arthur's lands. That tomorrow, hiding his very nature would not be one of the things on his daily agenda. “Yes. All of that, of course.”  
  
Getting to his feet, Merlin practically rushed towards his King's chair, only to lower himself back onto his knees when he arrived.  
  
Weeks ago, this would have never been a position Merlin would have been comfortable being in. Weeks ago, Merlin wouldn't have _thought_ of doing this.  
  
Now, it seemed right to rest his head against Arthur's thigh, breathing out a deep and heartfelt sigh.  
  
“Thank you,” he said fervently. “I can't tell you how happy I am.”  
  
For a few seconds, Merlin merely focused on how completely and fully at peace he felt.  
  
“What's changed, Merlin?” Arthur finally said.  
  
“Hm?” Merlin hummed, unwilling to move just yet.  
  
“Ever since I found out... well. You've been different. Very quiet and... obedient. Frankly, you've been a formidable manservant. Weirdly formidable. Not a word of disobedience or annoyance. The essence of servitude. At first, I was sure it was some kind of trick to make me forget about... well... you not telling me about your magic.”  
  
Thrown out of his peaceful revery, Merlin raised his head until he could stare upward.  
  
“I don't know, Sire,” he said quietly. “Ever since I told you, ever since you know... something changed. Sometimes I think _Why don't you talk back?_ or _Why aren't you annoyed with him snapping chores at you?_ But all I can think is that I... that I don't, that I'm not.”  
  
Arthur frowned.  
  
“Is it... does it have to do with your magic?”  
  
It was the first time this explanation occurred to Merlin.  
  
“It might,” he agreed thoughtfully. “My magic... it's not just a part of me, it _is_ me. I can feel it wherever I go, whatever I do. If my magic has decided that these are the right things to do and feel, I have essentially done so myself... am I making sense?”  
  
Arthur made a face.  
  
“Not much. But you've never been the brightest of the bunch, so I am not too surprised.”  
  
Still on his knees, Merlin only laughed.  
  
“See, Sire? I am not even remotely annoyed. I'm not angry about you saying something like this, though I know I used to be. Very much so. But I don't mind, not at all.”  
  
For the first time, a thought came to Merlin's mind that made his eyes widen almost comically.  
  
“Do _you_ mind? Do you want things to go back to how they were? I'm sure I could try...”  
  
Arthur seemed to actually contemplate that. He stayed silent for a while, eyes focused on the slowly growing fire, face serious.  
  
“You know, Merlin, I'm not sure. Not when it's not something... natural. Something you want.”  
  
“But it _feels_ natural!” Merlin immediately told him. “I don't know why, but it does. It never felt so normal to obey you. I might not have actively done it in the beginning, but I do want it now.”  
  
Arthur observed him carefully.  
  
“All right then,” he finally said. “All right.”  
  
With a small smile, he settled a careful hand on Merlin's head. Merlin loved the way it didn't at all feel like being a pet dog, but merely the receiver of an affectionate gesture.  
  
“Really, it probably won't hurt to have everyone see you not talk back when they realise you've more magic than anyone could possibly imagine.”  
  
Merlin nodded.  
  
“Do you think that might be it?” Arthur asked eventually. Merlin didn't know how long they'd been like this, Arthur's hand resting on Merlin's head, Merlin kneeling on the floor and not at all feeling like getting up anytime soon. “Do you think things have changed because it's necessary for this to succeed?”  
  
Merlin smiled.  
  
“Maybe,” he said.  
  
He still didn't feel much like questioning it anymore. Not if it made things easier. Not if it made things better and more comfortable and just so very, very good.  
  
"Maybe."


End file.
